Percutaneous Vertebroplasty--Or, Researching Medical Topics On-line Can Lead to Insanity

Monday, I have a consult for a procedure called percutaneous vertebroplasty, neither word of which Spell Check recognizes. It involves a needle going into the collapsed vertebrae (those marshmallow-looking objects in the spine) and injecting fast-hardening cement. The pain relief often occurs right away.

My doc wants me to have one of those.

On the other disc, Wikipedia, the source of all received pop knowledge, feels the procedure is useless. So, let's see--Doc. Wikipedia. Doc, Wikipedia. Boy, that's a toughie.

No, not really. Anyway, I hope they schedule me for one of those pretty quickly, because my back is continuing to act up like you wouldn't believe. Sitting down continues to be a painful activity, though I've gotten better at getting up.

There's a certain accidental poetry to that last sentence....

Thanks a million for all the well wishes--they are greatly appreciated. No way of telling when I'll be back in blogging mode. At the moment, I'm leaving the church without its regular organist, though word has it a sub will be filling this Sunday. If no sub, then "tracks" will do the job (MIDI files). They've got me covered.

I find that, when I'm stuck in a chair in the TV room, ads become even more annoying than they would otherwise be. I'll have to single out those awful GE ads--the "ecomagination" epics that, if they didn't go so ridiculously over the top, might exist as merely another group of mildly annoying, self-promotional spots to be shrugged off or tuned out completely. But how to tune out an animated elephant dancing to the five-zillionth media reprise of Sing, Sing, Sing, a recording that sometimes has me wishing the big band era never happened? Or 5,000 people line-dancing in their work suits? Apparently, these ads are intended to promote a serious discussion of eco-issues, which is precisely what images of dancing elephants and body-jerking employees are bound to do. Gosh, sign me up for that discussion. And nothing says imagination like cliches piled on Waffle-House-thick with the volume turned to 11.

GE products, lightbulbs included, are off my shopping list until further notice. It's a tiny gesture, but it's something.

I just read (on-line, where else?) that another version of the dancing elephant ad features Singing in the Rain. I have a feeling that if GE's ad department ever came in contact with genuine imagination, the matter/anti-matter result would rip a hole through our galaxy.

I know what you're thinking--if trashing GE helps me cope with my back agony, then go for it. Why, thank you.

Anyway, I just had to get that out. In other news, I'm reading an essay on percutaneous whatsitcalled which treats it like a treatment for those with osteoporosis. Which I'm not even close to having--my bones are big and solid. My fracture is due to a hard, sharp blow, not bone loss. Do you hear that, Internet? HAH???

Now I'm yelling at the Internet. Of course, I do that even when I'm not chained to a chair on pain pills. (What my chair is doing on pain pills is beyond me.)

Bev is bravely coping, doing what she can and getting help for the rest. She's an angel with a Ph.D. and a New York attitude. At 76 and out in the country, she's not quite up to the collective chores, which is another reason I want to get back into commission as soon as medical science (Wikipedia-approved or not) permits.

I don't praise Bev enough in these pages. This ordeal, sans Bev, would be awful instead of merely agonizing on occasion. And I'm glad it was me in the passenger seat and not her. That's the one great thing about this.

Lee

This is spinal snap

I'd love to report that my back is feeling better, but the pain is staying steady even as I become more limber to cope with it. In my pain-pill-doped state, I tried to study my condition on-line, but little made sense to me. The human spine is a very strange thing. Apparently, we possess the spine of a four-legged animal--a spine which has evolved, not very gracefully, into a vertical model. Great planning, Evolution. Thanks!

I neglected to report on Bev and Wesley--both, thankfully, are fine. Bev has a few small bruises which she attributes to pushing on me to help me get upright as we sat, tilted, in the car. Otherwise, no damage to her person. Wesley, our newest tuxedo, was on the back seat in a kitty carrier--I can only imagine what he was wondering. But he's just fine. Along with the car, I'm the sole casualty. Which, of course, would make me part of a duo casualty. (Did I mention I'm doped?)

Bev and I are foster mom and son. I moved in after her husband, John, took seriously ill. (John passed away in 2007.)

I see my regular doc today, and I'm hoping he'll prescribe a back brace and/or something to make walking, sitting, stretching, etc. less torturous. Sleeping in this morning, I had one falling dream after another--me slipping on tile, me falling onto a chair or couch, etc. Each time, I woke up with a bounce (or the sensation thereof). Intrepid Savio, our beloved cream cat, slept through it, just snoozing away at my feet on the recliner rest.

At some point yesterday, my last essay reported that my Taurus had been "titled." As in, given the title of "junk" by the insurance appraiser.

So, anyway, what planet is this?